


all our loving hands act as one

by okamiwind



Category: EXO (Band)
Genre: Anxiety, Depression, Emotional Support Boys, Gen, Hurt/Comfort
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-10
Updated: 2020-07-10
Packaged: 2021-03-04 18:20:58
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,896
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25190803
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/okamiwind/pseuds/okamiwind
Summary: junmyeon can't keep his head above the water.his friends raise a barn.
Comments: 49
Kudos: 82





	all our loving hands act as one

**Author's Note:**

  * For [zvirk77](https://archiveofourown.org/users/zvirk77/gifts).



It’s been hard. 

That’s what he tells people if they ask. Well, that’s not entirely true. He doesn’t get to _It’s been hard_ unless they’re persistent. Unless they ask multiple times. Unless they’re willing to sit and poke and prod at him. Then, he smiles sadly, and he tells them. _It’s been hard._

They’re plain words, and they don’t fully convey the weight of the issue. 

Junmyeon is drowning, the water rising within him. The tides are hungry, and they pull him deeper and deeper as the days go by. Work, family, friends… every day there is something new. It never stops. That’s the thing about life. There’s only one way of stopping it. 

When he gets into bed at night, he reaches up to massage at his jaw and the sides of his neck. He carries all his stress there, worrying over things that usually can’t be helped. He gets tension headaches every single day. Medicine doesn’t seem to alleviate them, so he’s stopped trying. He lives with a headache. He’s accepted it. 

Working from home means most of the time, he doesn’t need to see anyone. He doesn’t know if that’s good or bad. If he needs to see people, usually he can keep it together for the sake of looking sane. But now… it’s like all hell’s broken loose. 

He doesn’t know what to do, what to say. Who to say it to. He’s got a good group of friends, he’s got family, and still… it doesn’t feel important enough to bother them with it. He’s just a little too sensitive, he tells himself. He takes things just a little too hard. 

Worries just a little too much.  
  


↑

When your anxiety is as bad as his is, it’s difficult not to let yourself slip into depression. He thinks of it like he’s swimming. Life without anxiety… he thinks that might be something like floating on top of the water, but for him, because of the constant worry that’s dripping down his throat, it’s more like treading water.

You can only tread for so long before your legs start to give out underneath you. And you can struggle. Of course, you can struggle. Struggle is natural. You don’t want to go down under the water. Your body is hard-wired not to want to go under. And so you fight. You fight like hell, but God, it’s so tiring. God, you feel so weak.

You take a breath of air, as much oxygen as your lungs can hold, and you cling to it like life itself. Eventually, eventually… it’s too much. It takes you. By then, the water is in your lungs.  
  


↑

Junmyeon wakes on Monday morning, and he can’t tell if his headache is stemming from a bad night’s sleep, grinding his teeth, a caffeine addiction unaddressed, or the potential of undiagnosed high blood pressure. Are headaches even caused by high blood pressure?

He picks up his phone and googles _undiagnosed high blood pressure headache_. Apparently, the jury is still out. Maybe he doesn’t have that to worry about. Still, aspirin would take care of that, wouldn’t it? 

He doesn’t know, He doesn’t really care anymore. I mean, of course he cares, but God, it’s so tiring. 

He barely pulls himself out of bed in time to sit himself in front of his cluttered, wrapper-filled desk, logging onto the system with just enough time to spare. He immediately starts getting phone calls, and God, it takes fucking everything he has in him to answer them. 

Work drains him of what little strength he had to begin with, and by the time lunch rolls around, he is desperate for something to make him feel good. His mood sours when he sees the state of his kitchen, the sink full of dishes, the lack of good groceries. He knows he’s deep in his depression now, but that knowledge never helps to pull him out of it. 

He eats a cup of ramen at the table, and he doesn’t even have the solace of watching something on his phone. Every time he touches it, he’s reminded of the things he should have responded to days ago, and they weigh him down like lead. 

Text messages go unanswered even from people he wants to hear from, even from people he loves. He doesn’t _want_ to be this way, but it just… after even an hour passes, he’s still staring at the same message, dying to figure out why he can’t just _write back_. 

When that hour turns to hours, hours turns to days… Junmyeon loses control. Once the ball starts rolling, it’s hard to stick your foot out in front to stop it. 

The rest of work passes excruciatingly slow, but then somehow, it’s already midnight, and he’s sitting in the exact same position he was hours ago. _Where did the time go,_ he wonders. _How can I get it back?_

He stares at his messaging screen, and he looks back at several concerned messages from various sources. Minseok. Jongdae. Even Baekhyun. That’s how he knows the hermiting is bad. Maybe he could send a text to just one person, and then they could disseminate the information. Yeah, he tells himself, one text wouldn’t be that hard. 

He sits there in complete silence as he tries to pick which message to respond to. Looking through the words, _hey are you doing okay havent heard from you in a while, bro lets link up in animal crossing i need iron, tell me if im being annoying but i just wnna make sure ur alright_ , Junmyeon can’t pick just one. If he responded to any, he’d have to respond to all. It wouldn’t be fair otherwise. 

He sets his phone down, and he covers his forehead with the palm of his hand. Maybe he’ll try again tomorrow.  
  


↑

He manages to get by even though everything feels like it’s falling apart. The more he tries to keep it together, the smaller the fractured pieces seem to get, almost like he’s crushing things between his clasped hands.

He returns his mom’s phone calls, only because he’s well aware that if he waits more than a few days, she will absolutely call the cops on him for a wellness check, and he doesn’t need that in his life. Definitely not. 

“I worry about you,” she says, and he can hear the sounds of laundry in the background, phone tight between her ear and her shoulder. “You only ever talk about work.” 

“Work is the biggest thing in my life,” Junmyeon says.

“Shouldn’t be like that.” She tuts. “You’re young. You’re handsome. You should be happy.” 

Junmyeon blinks, long and acidic. 

“I’m fine,” Junmyeon assures her. “If I wasn’t fine, would I have had enough foresight to buy you a birthday present already?” 

“Honey, you’ve always been more preoccupied with taking care of other people than you are taking care of yourself,” she says. “Stop that.” 

“I’ll try,” Junmyeon says, but truthfully, if it’s so ingrained in you, what is left when you sand down beneath the indents? 

Will there be anything left at all?  
  


↑

It’s after work and Junmyeon is in the middle of not doing anything at all, paralyzed by fear and sadness, when his phone rings. He nearly ignores it entirely, letting it ring once, twice, three times before picking it up and seeing the worst person he could possibly see on a caller ID.

Sehun never calls unless it’s an emergency. Junmyeon picks up the phone without hesitation. 

“Hello?” 

“Hey,” Sehun says, awfully casual. 

“Hey, is everything okay?” Junmyeon asks. 

“Yeah, all good,” Sehun says, and Junmyeon can hear the sounds of traffic in the background. “How are you doing?” 

“I-I’m good,” Junmyeon says. “Usually you don’t call unless—” 

“Unless something terrible is happening,” Sehun says, and Junmyeon listens to his smile, trying to imagine it. “No, uh, I was just in the neighborhood and figured I’d stop for coffee. Figured I’d extend the offer… pleasure of my company and everything.” 

_Oh_ , Junmyeon thinks, sinking down into his seat. _There is an emergency._ I’m _the emergency._

Soaked head to toe in embarrassment, Junmyeon tries to blink away the tears that jump to his eyes. 

“N-No, uh, that’s really nice and everything, but I think I’m just gonna… you know, rest or whatever,” Junmyeon says, and he wipes at his face, sniffs hard. “I, uh, I’ve had a headache all day.” 

“Caffeine will help with that,” Sehun says. 

“I shouldn’t,” Junmyeon says, looking around like he’s trying to find an exit. “I’m trying to cut back on coffee.” 

“Get tea,” Sehun says. “Meet me at Rosie’s in ten minutes.” 

“Most tea has caffeine, and that’s really what I’m trying to lose.” 

“Junmyeon.” 

“I really don’t want to go,” Junmyeon says. 

“I’m gonna be there regardless,” Sehun says. “So you can either meet me in ten minutes, or you can make me look like a total fucking loser drinking coffee at 5:30 on a Friday by himself as he listens to _Everybody Hurts._ Just staring wistfully out the window.” Junmyeon chokes out a laugh. “Do you want to make me look like that?” 

“I guess not.” 

He’s helpless when it comes to Sehun. 

“Ten minutes,” Sehun says cheerfully. “Well, nine and a half now. Better get moving.”  
  


↑

Rosie’s is only a few blocks from his apartment, so he doesn’t need to rush over. He rushes over anyway, and he arrives before Sehun does.

He finds a table, and he sits there as he looks around, watching for Sehun. He would order something, but he doesn’t wanna look rude only ordering something for himself. Doesn’t want to be presumptuous either, ordering something for Sehun that he might not want. He waffles over the decision whether or not to get up and place an order for so long that he ends up sitting there in dead-eyed silence until Sehun arrives. 

“Took me five minutes to find street parking,” Sehun groans, throwing his bag on the table and pointing down at Junmyeon. “Did you order anything yet?” 

“No, I was waiting for you,” Junmyeon says. 

“Cool,” Sehun says, and he walks over to the counter without another word. 

Junmyeon watches as Sehun smiles at the man working the counter, tilting his hips as he leans on the pastry case to give his order. Junmyeon’s gonna kill him one of these days. 

He returns with two large clear plastic cups filled with coffee, his own milky and sweet, Sehun’s black but probably still with sugar, if Junmyeon knows him. And he thinks he does. Sehun sits down opposite Junmyeon, smiling at him. 

“So,” he starts, “how you been?” 

“Good,” Junmyeon smiles. “How about you?” 

“I’m good,” Sehun says. “But how are you?” 

“Good…” 

“How are you _really_?” 

“Oh my God,” Junmyeon says, and he sips at his coffee to distract himself from the rising panic creeping back up his esophagus. “It’s a trap.” 

“Yep, I got you,” Sehun says. “I’m a genius tactician. I’ve read _Art of War_.” 

“Did someone tell you to do this?” Junmyeon asks, raising his brows. 

“Baekhyun gave me the idea, and Chanyeol gave me the push I needed,” Sehun smiles. “So what’s on your mind?” 

“I’m okay,” Junmyeon assures him. “If I wasn’t okay, would I be here with you?” 

“To keep up appearances?” Sehun asks. “Yeah, absolutely. You would do almost anything to convince me that you’re fine.” 

Junmyeon feels tears leap to his eyes at the suggestion, so he quickly looks away, taking a sip of his coffee. He doesn’t really taste anything. All he can feel is Sehun’s gaze on him. 

“You wanna keep beating around the bush, or do you wanna get down to business?” 

Junmyeon shrugs his shoulders uncomfortably. “I guess business.” 

“Have you talked to Minseok?” Sehun asks. “Or Jongdae recently?” 

Junmyeon sips at his coffee, staring down at the table. “I-It’s been hard lately. I’ll try to reach out to them soon.” 

“I’m not saying it because you’re in trouble, I’m not trying to… to _scold_ you,” Sehun says gently. “Have they been trying to get in contact?” 

“Yeah,” Junmyeon admits. “I’m sorry.” 

“You don’t have to apologize.” Junmyeon looks up, and Sehun has his brows raised softly. “We’re here for you. We understand.” 

“It’s bad to ignore people,” Junmyeon says. “It’s not polite.” 

Sehun sits back in his seat, fingers stretched forward to play with the beaded condensation on the side of his cup. 

“I know what it’s like,” Sehun says. “It’s hard to do anything when you’re so… you know, tangled up in it.” 

For some reason, that phrasing, _tangled up in it_... it hits a little too hard, a little too close. Junmyeon sucks in shocked air as he tries to control the pain that rises up through his throat, burning out towards his eyes. 

“But we’re here to pick up the slack if you need us,” Sehun says. “And whether you want it or not, we’ll always be here to help.” 

_I want it_ , he wants to say. _I always want your help. I push you away because I’m too dependent on it. Because I’m so weak without you._

“This is stupid,” Junmyeon says with a dark laugh. “I mean, how stupid is this?” 

“I don’t think it’s stupid at all,” Sehun says. “I don’t think you or your problems are stupid.” 

“You have to do all this and I’m an _adult_ ,” Junmyeon says. “I’m _pathetic_.” 

“No negative self talk,” Sehun reminds him. 

_That’s all I have,_ Junmyeon thinks. _I don’t have any other kinds of talk._

“It’s okay to need our help,” Sehun says. “It’s okay to _want_ help.” 

“You don’t need help,” Junmyeon says. “You’re normal.” 

“Junmyeon.” 

“Am I wrong?” 

“Yeah,” Sehun says. “You’re wrong all the time, but especially right now.” He points at Junmyeon with his straw. “Remember when I needed to go to the hospital because I thought I was having a heart attack but it was just really bad heartburn after a cheesesteak from Prince’s?” 

Junmyeon smiles, and he wipes at his face. “Yeah, how could I forget?” 

“Remember when Chanyeol got broken up with? And you made him that lasagna? Or when Kyungsoo was studying for his exam, and he was convinced he was gonna fail? So you sat with him and made flashcards and quizzed him all night? Or when—” 

“I remember,” Junmyeon says. “But it’s not—” 

“It is the same,” Sehun says. “Just because we all need different kinds of help doesn’t mean yours is any different.” 

_It is different. It’s different because it’s me._

“Drink your coffee,” Sehun says, “and promise that you’ll think about it.” 

“I will,” Junmyeon says. “You’re a fountain of wisdom.” 

“I know,” Sehun frowns, and he flips his obnoxious oversized sunglasses down onto his face, “but you never take me seriously.” 

“I have no idea why that is,” Junmyeon says, and from then on, they talk about easier things. Happier things.  
  


↑

For a moment, things get better after his talk with Sehun. He tries to commit himself to the No Negative Self Talk thing, but when you’ve come to only speak to yourself negatively, you don’t even know what to say to start speaking positively. Where do you start? How do you go from _miserable, terrible, ugly, stupid_ to _wonderful, good, beautiful, smart_? Does he have to pretend he’s meeting someone for the first time?

In any universe, the fabric of time unfurling like silk, he thinks he would not be worth the effort. 

He falls back into old habits after the third day, and he didn’t even have a chance to clean the apartment. 

He actually takes a sick day from work on Tuesday, lying in bed all day with a headache. He doesn’t even have the strength to get up except to get some food, and at a certain point, he realizes that this will have to come to a head. There will be no other way to get through it. He’ll either die from this overwhelming fear, or he’ll be forced to live. Sink or swim. 

The rest of the week, he goes to bed and he lets frustrated tears fall to the pillowcase. It releases endorphins, he tells himself. It’s good for him.  
  


↑

It is Friday night, and all is calm.

The week is over, and Junmyeon rejoices for that. He microwaves himself some pizza rolls and hoards them like a goblin as he sits at his desk, searching for something to watch while he stuffs himself full. 

Just as he’s about to begin eating, though, he hears a knock on his door. 

He frowns, resigned to waiting until they go away. Maybe they got the wrong address, he reasons. 

The stranger at the door… they knock again. Junmyeon slowly sucks in air as he tries to keep himself as quiet as possible. If they don’t hear him inside, they’ll leave. 

“Junmyeon,” Chanyeol’s voice says, and it is accompanied by another quick knock. “We know you’re in there.” 

_We?_

“Sorry,” Junmyeon says, and he hurries over, unlocking his door to reveal the entire group of them. 

All of them. All at once. He hasn’t seen them all together in months, but that’s how friendship is when you’re an adult. Not everyone has the time or energy to get together. Still, even just seeing their smiling faces fills him with a warmth he’d nearly forgotten. 

Junmyeon stands there, completely shocked as the eight of them push past him, pouring into his tiny, unkempt apartment. 

“W-What are you doing here?” he panics. 

“Here to hang out,” Jongdae says happily, and at that moment, Junmyeon’s attention is directed to the large bags that they’re carrying… that _all_ of them are carrying. 

“W-Why?” 

“Because we thought it would be _fun_ ,” Baekhyun says. “Duh doy.” 

“B-But I didn’t invite any of you here,” Junmyeon says. “I-I mean not that I’m not happy to see you all, but I just—” 

“This place is kind of a wreck,” Minseok judges, and Junmyeon’s stomach sinks. Minseok turns to him, holding up his hands. “I didn’t mean it like that. Not in a bad way!” 

“Yeah, in a cute way,” Yixing says. “We love depression caves.” 

“I’m not really… emotionally, mentally, or physically equipped for company right now,” Junmyeon says, and he folds his arms over his stomach. “I’m sorry.”

“You don’t have to be prepared,” Jongin says, and he raises the bags in his hands. “We came prepared.” 

“Yeah, so go get a shower,” Chanyeol says with a smile. “We’re gonna set up.”

“Set up for _what_?” Junmyeon asks. 

“For the party,” Sehun says. 

“Duh doy,” Baekhyun repeats. 

Junmyeon squints, looking around as they start to unpack. Minseok and Kyungsoo are in his little kitchen, Jongdae and Baekhyun on his couch, Jongin poking around by his desk, his _pizza rolls_ , Chanyeol and Sehun… _oh no_ , he thinks. Chanyeol and Sehun swarming him. 

“Go, go,” Sehun encourages. “We’ve got this.” 

“I should clean up the kitchen,” Junmyeon says. “I should clear off the desk, a-and clean off the coffee table.” 

“Go get your shower first,” Chanyeol says. “And then find some comfy clothes.” 

“I’m on it,” Sehun says. 

“Sehun’s on it,” Chanyeol corrects. “Go, go. Get clean! You’ll feel better.” 

Junmyeon has this sinking feeling in his stomach, dread or her kin, but he shoves it away as Chanyeol gently nudges him into the bathroom. Junmyeon stands there for several seconds, confused about what just happened, and he steps in front of the mirror, observing himself for a moment or two. 

There are bags under his eyes, violet and deep. His eyes are red at the edges, and he blinks slowly before he takes in the rest of the picture. It is not a pretty sight, and he feels shame for letting himself fall so deep, for allowing himself to spiral like this. He’s a fucking _adult_. He’s too old for this shit. 

There is a soft knock on the door, and Junmyeon turns, alarmed. 

“I don’t hear the water running,” Sehun says. “Can I put your clothes in there?” 

“S-Sure,” Junmyeon says, and Sehun opens the door, popping his head through. 

“You okay?” he asks. “Is this too much?” 

“I just don’t know what’s happening,” Junmyeon says. 

“Good ol’ fashioned barn raising,” Sehun smiles. “If you want us to leave, all you have to do is say.” 

“I don’t know what a barn raising is,” Junmyeon says. “I’m very confused. Y-You might not know this about me, but I don’t have a barn to raise.” 

“You’ve never heard of a barn raising?” Junmyeon shakes his head no. Sehun grins, stepping into the tiny bathroom, shutting the door behind him. “It’s really hard to build a barn by yourself.” 

“I had no idea,” Junmyeon says flatly. 

“Yeah, it was really difficult,” Sehun says, completely disregarding Junmyeon’s sarcasm. “So whenever someone needed a barn, the community would come together and help them. Because it was the right thing to do. Especially in troubled times.” 

“What do you mean?” 

“If the barn burned down or something like that, obviously they needed help,” Sehun says, and he passes the clothes, a pair of warm sweats, into Junmyeon’s arms. “So they came together. And they raised the barn in a couple days.” 

Junmyeon’s eyes water. “So this is the barn raising… for me?” 

“Yeah,” Sehun says. “And if you hate it, like seriously hate it, I’ll tell them to leave.” Sehun looks into Junmyeon’s eyes. “Please don’t tell us to leave.” 

Junmyeon looks to the floor, squeezing the sweatpants and sweatshirt to his chest. This has always been the hardest part. Sometimes you don’t even need to ask for help. Sometimes the help comes to you. Still, _still_... the hardest part is always accepting that help. Turning over the idea that you don’t deserve it. Flattening it down with the weight of the knowledge that, even if you don’t think you deserve it, you do. You do.

_He does._

“Don’t leave,” he whispers softly. “Please don’t leave.” 

Sehun doesn’t make him look into his eyes, only whispers back “We won’t” before he leaves Junmyeon alone, closing the bathroom door behind him. He taps with his knuckles. “Get ready. We’re gonna start working soon.” 

It will be work. They won’t, _can’t_ do everything for him. But that’s okay, he reminds himself. He never wanted them to do anything at all, but now, arms outstretched, he thinks he could collide into their arms. He thinks he could let them help a little. 

He gets into the shower, turns the water on hot, and gasps as he sucks in the steam. He was unaware how much tension he was carrying in his shoulders before it all melts away, spiraling down the drain. He lets his head roll forward and back, stretching the sore muscles of his neck and shoulders as he washes his hair, his body. His eyes hurt less by the time he’s shutting the water off, and the sweats sit comfortably along him after he’s dried himself off. 

Junmyeon looks in the mirror, shuffling his fingers through his hair after drying it as best he can. He looks… God, he looks tired. When’s the last time he slept through the night? When’s the last time he had more than four hours sleep? 

He supposes it doesn’t matter now. That’s always been a problem for him, though… the living in the past. 

_Pick it all up and move forward_ , he thinks, and he gathers up his dirty clothes in his arms. _Move on. You can feel better. It’s not impossible._

He opens the bathroom door, looking left and right before going to his bedroom. He thinks he’ll be alone there too, but when he walks in, Chanyeol is standing there, arms full of clothes, looking around at the state of things. 

“Hey, buddy,” Chanyeol says encouragingly. “How are you feeling?” 

“A little better?” Junmyeon offers, and Chanyeol smiles dazzlingly at him. “What, uh, what are you up to?” 

“Oh, just… you know,” Chanyeol says, gesturing to the mess on the floor of Junmyeon’s bedroom. “Straightening up, I guess.” 

“Most of it is just… clothes,” Junmyeon says. “Things I wanted to wash.” 

“Okay, cool.” He takes the clothes he was carrying and puts them in the laundry basket in the corner of the room before hauling it over to the center. “Give me a hand putting everything that needs to be washed in here?” 

“Okay,” Junmyeon says, squinting. It’s easier, he realizes, with someone here. 

First, he ditches his clothes that he’s got in his arms. Then, he picks up a sweatshirt, balling it up. He watches as Chanyeol does the same with a pair of pajama pants, rolling it into a neat little ball. 

“Hey, watch this,” Chanyeol says, and he backs up from the basket, does a little fadeaway jumper and totally misses the target. “Nailed it.” 

Junmyeon snorts, and he bends down to pick up the pants. 

From then on, they both try scoring pieces of laundry into the basket. Junmyeon ends up letting Chanyeol win, and Chanyeol gloats cutely for a moment before turning back towards the room, already looking roughly one million times more put together. 

“Look at that,” Chanyeol says, and he holds up his hand for Junmyeon to high five. “We did it.” 

“Yeah,” Junmyeon says. “It, uh, it was easy.” He looks down at his feet, frowns. “I’m sorry.” 

“Hey, it was only easy because we are such a good team,” Chanyeol says, and Junmyeon looks up to find Chanyeol aiming that beautiful smile at Junmyeon once more, sending a thrill of good feelings through Junmyeon head to toe. 

“Yeah,” Junmyeon shrugs happily. “I guess.” 

“Come on,” Chanyeol says. “I think they’re making food out there.” 

Chanyeol leaves Junmyeon in his bedroom, padding back out through the apartment. Junmyeon takes the opportunity to look around his room, taking stock of things. His bed is still a mess, his closet and chest of drawers still spilling out everywhere. There are a mess of glasses on his bedside table that should be moved to the sink.

It looks better than it has in months. Suddenly, the air seems a bit clearer. Suddenly, it seems just that much easier to breathe. Junmyeon shuts his eyes, and he breathes in deeply. His chest rises and falls, and with that, he exits the room, closing the door behind him. 

He joins the rest of them, now standing outside his tiny kitchen. He tries to push through the line of them, but he is held back. He tries to raise himself up onto his tiptoes to see what’s going on inside the kitchen, but Chanyeol, Sehun, and Jongin are standing in the way, barring it from sight. 

“What the fuck is going on?” Junmyeon asks. 

“Minseok’s cleaning the kitchen before we cook,” Baekhyun says. “Trust me, you don’t wanna see it. He’s like the Tasmanian Devil.” 

“Shut up,” Minseok says. “It doesn’t make sense to cook in a dirty kitchen.” 

Junmyeon looks down at his feet. 

“It’s cool,” Jongin says with a smile, looking back at Junmyeon over his shoulder charmingly. “My kitchen is a wreck too. I made this cheesecake that I saw on a Tasty video?” He scoffs. “Looked so easy.” 

“I didn’t know people actually made the recipes from those videos,” Jongdae says. 

“Normal people don’t,” Yixing laughs. 

“Hey, I’m normal,” Jongin pouts. 

“It’s good to be abnormal,” Baekhyun assures him. 

“I appreciate the sentiment,” Jongin says slowly. 

“Why does it sound like you’re about to say _but not coming from you?_ ” Baekhyun says, and he puts up his fists, starts swinging them against Jongin’s biceps. “You wanna tussle, big boy? Come on, froggy. Leap!” 

“I’m done,” Minseok says, and the group of them focus their collective attention on the kitchen again, ooh-ing and ahh-ing. 

“Let me see,” Junmyeon says, trying to force his way through so that he can look too. 

Eventually, they let him through, and Junmyeon’s eyes go wide. He has no idea how Minseok managed to make such a big change in such a little amount of time, but _holy shit_. 

“Are you, like, a wizard?” Chanyeol asks. 

“It comes from practice,” Minseok says, and he pulls his rubber gloves off his hands proudly. “Besides, it definitely wasn’t that bad. I’ve cleaned much worse.” 

Junmyeon doesn’t know if Minseok said that specifically for his benefit or not, but either way, he’ll take it. His counters are clean, smelling like chemicals and lemons. His fridge is sparkling. His floors are still shining with spots of cleaner, and Junmyeon… Junmyeon has no idea how he’ll thank them for this. 

“I…” he starts, but he is swiftly interrupted by a furious, fast hug from Minseok. 

“Thanks for having us over,” he says, squeezing Junmyeon so tightly that Junmyeon thinks he might pop. “I really appreciate it.” 

“S-Sure,” Junmyeon says. 

“Is pizza good with you?” Chanyeol asks, and he begins unpacking bags of groceries. “I know we’re gonna have to crank your oven all the way up, but there’s nothing better than pizza and beer.” 

“Pizza’s fine,” Junmyeon says, arms still full of Minseok. 

“Sweet,” Chanyeol says, and they start setting up workstations, spreading out dough. “Do you have a pizza stone?” 

“I think maybe my mom got me one?” Junmyeon says. “I don’t think I’ve ever used it though.” 

“Cool, cool,” Jongin says. “I’m gonna go look in the closet.” 

“Kyungsoo already made the dough,” Jongdae says, “so like, pick your favorite toppings and let's start making these bad boys.” 

They set out the stations along the counter and the dining room table, and Junmyeon feels himself relax as they bicker back and forth about toppings and combinations. He’s content just to sit there and laugh, and before he knows it, he feels a lot better than before. 

“Come on, let’s get your pizza in there,” Kyungsoo says, and he gingerly slides Junmyeon’s pizza, streaked with marinara and mozzarella, dotted with basil, onto the pizza peel. 

“Where did you get that?” Junmyeon asks. “I’m, like, one hundred percent sure I don’t have one of those.” 

“Well, yeah, who does?” Kyungsoo snorts. “Except for me. A pizza connoisseur.” 

“You brought it from home?” Junmyeon asks. 

“Course,” Kyungsoo says, and Junmyeon follows him over to the oven, watches him slide it gently onto the stone. “There you go. Ten minutes and it should be looking exceptional.” 

“Thank you for doing this,” Junmyeon says softly. “I know you’re probably really busy with work and everything.” 

“I’d drop anything for you,” Kyungsoo says, and he looks into Junmyeon’s eyes. There is no hint of a smile on his face, nothing to suggest that he’s kidding, and of course not. Kyungsoo does everything with one hundred percent of himself. “You know I love you, right?” 

“Yeah,” Junmyeon says. “I love you too.” 

Then, Kyungsoo smiles. And that feels better than anything, anything except for the way Kyungsoo tugs him into a hug. Junmyeon doesn’t deserve them. Not even a little bit. 

“Can you get all the gay stuff away from the pizza?” Sehun asks, and Junmyeon spins to see him resting his chin in his hand. “It’s gonna make them taste all fruity.” 

“Well, if we’re talking about fruity, you would know,” Junmyeon says, and Sehun’s mouth falls open. 

“Homophobia? In such a safe space?” Sehun asks. 

“You started it,” Minseok rules. 

“He’s right,” Jongdae sings. “Don’t dish it if you can’t take it.” 

“I can take it,” Sehun says sternly. “Believe me, I can take it.” 

“Is that what you told the trade from the night before?” Junmyeon smiles. 

“Oh my God,” Baekhyun whispers, staring at Sehun’s face. “I just saw a man’s spirit die in real time.” Junmyeon smiles as Sehun seems to morph into a haunted doll. “Yep, there it goes.” 

Sehun reaches across the table to slap Baekhyun across the arm, and the rest of them laugh, a delightful sound that rings out in the little apartment. He can’t remember the last time it sounded like that, not the canned laugh of a soundtrack keeping him company, but… but _this_. People he loves. People who _care_ about him. 

They eat the pizza in the cleaned kitchen, standing around, drinking beer and shooting the shit. Junmyeon listens to stories about Jongdae’s new cat, Minseok’s new boyfriend, Jongin’s new pillow. 

“Don’t make it sound like I’m… like I’m doing _foul_ things to it,” Jongin says. “It’s just that not everyone has real big things going on! And sometimes new pillows can be exciting.” 

“He’s humping the pillow,” Yixing assesses. 

“I’m _not_ ,” Jongin whines. 

“He definitely is,” Minseok laughs. 

“Hey, there’s good money in that,” Sehun says, and he looks Jongin up and down as he sips from his beer. “Get an OnlyFans.” 

“Know a lot about pillow humping on OnlyFans?” Chanyeol teases. 

“You _wish_ you could watch me pillow humping on OnlyFans, you little bitch,” Sehun says. 

“This is getting uncomfortable,” Jongdae says. 

“ _Getting_ uncomfortable?” Minseok asks, and he looks around. “ _Getting_ uncomfortable?” 

“Some of us are already plenty comfortable with Sehun being a slut,” Kyungsoo says. 

“Don’t,” Sehun says. “I don’t wanna discuss this anymore.” 

“If you didn’t wanna discuss it, you shouldn’t have accidentally sent me a dick pic during one of my appointments,” Kyungsoo says. 

“You say accidentally, but do we have hard evidence that it was an accident?” Yixing asks. 

“Believe me, it was hard,” Kyungsoo deadpans, and Chanyeol laughs so hard that he nearly punches Jongin in the throat. 

“If Sehun wanted to sleep with Kyungsoo, I think we’d know by now,” Minseok says, and he points with the tip of a pizza slice at Sehun. “Right?” 

“Right,” Sehun says. “One drunk accident, and all of a sudden, you’ve got a _reputation_.” 

“To be fair,” Jongin smiles, “if you didn’t talk so much about your sexual endeavors—” 

“We might not be so inclined to call you a harlot,” Yixing fills in. 

“A _harlot_ ,” Sehun scoffs. “What am I, the scarlet fuckin’ letter?” 

“You didn’t even read that book,” Minseok laughs. 

“Yes, I most certainly did, bitch.” 

“What’s her name?” Jongin asks. 

“What?” Sehun says. 

“What’s the scarlet letter’s name?” Jongin asks. 

“Oh, as if memorization is a sign of comprehension,” Sehun says, flinging his hands around in the air. “Mester Mynne or something like that. Point _is_ that I’m being _attacked_ right now.” 

“You are a complete goober,” Minseok judges. “Drink your beer.” 

Sehun pouts, but he does as he’s told. Junmyeon has missed them more than words could say. 

When they’re through with the pizza, Kyungsoo and Minseok begin to clean up the kitchen, and Junmyeon immediately joins in, a pleasant buzz streaking through him. 

They wash it all back up, everything spic and span before they know it, and Junmyeon can’t remember the last time his head didn’t hurt at all. Can’t remember the last time he felt so weightless. It makes him feel like he could do anything. 

Once they’re through in the kitchen, he goes back over to the living room, watching as Jongin straightens up his desk, as Yixing picks up various things from the coffee table. It brings him back down to earth, a reminder that they’re here because he was drowning. Dying. 

It’s not so much that they’re seeing him like this. It’s more that… that he wishes they didn’t have to do this. That he wishes he could be different. Someone they could be proud of. 

“Were you gonna have pizza rolls? For dinner?” Jongin asks, holding up Junmyeon’s little plate. “God, I’m so glad we found you.” 

“What’s wrong with pizza rolls, hypocrite?” Yixing asks, and he stacks glasses in on each other, something that looks like a fire hazard. “All the major food groups.” 

“List them please,” Jongin says, and he takes the dishes from Yixing’s hands, dumping the stale pizza rolls in the garbage as he goes. 

“Tomato sauce, which is like, fruits or vegetables,” Yixing says. “Pretty sure the jury is still out on that one.” 

“Okay, whatever, you got that one,” Jongin says, and he brushes off his hands as he walks back into the room. “Next?” 

“Cheese,” Yixing says. “Easy. Dairy.” 

“Okay,” Jongin says. 

“And last, but certainly not least,” Yixing says, and he gathers up all the circulars, junk mail, and napkins on the tabletop, balling them up easily, “additives.” 

Kyungsoo spits out a laugh from behind him, and Junmyeon turns around to see him wiping down the dining room table. Junmyeon can’t remember the last time it looked so clean. 

“Additives,” Jongin says. “Additives is a food group.” 

“It’s 2020,” Yixing argues. “Of course additives are a food group. Hell, _added flavors_ should be a food group.” He squints at Jongin. “Did you know companies can just _do_ that? Put _added flavors_ and not say what the fuck it is?” 

“Everything is horrific,” Jongin says. “I know.” 

“My point is why not just live in the middle of the void where it’s safe?” Yixing says, and he cheerfully hugs his arms close to himself. “The void is my friend.” 

“Can we stop talking about this?” Junmyeon asks. “I’m feeling less good about my recent food choices.” 

Yixing lowers his arms from around his body, frowning. “That’s the opposite of what I was trying to do.” 

“I was just joking anyway,” Jongin laughs, and he sits back down at Junmyeon’s desk. “Remember my Tasty cheesecake? It was a Fruity Pebble cheesecake.” 

“What the fuck does _that_ mean?” Kyungsoo asks. 

“It means exactly what it sounds like,” Jongin says. “And you wanna know something? It was fucking delicious.” 

“Please tell me you didn’t eat the whole thing,” Kyungsoo says. 

“Every last bit of it,” Jongin says. “You wanna know why?” 

“Because you’re worth it?” 

“Absolutely I am,” Jongin says proudly, and then a bit slower, “absolutely I am.”

“Is this supposed to be a helpful conversation?” Kyungsoo asks Yixing. 

“I don’t know,” Yixing says, “I’ve kind of lost the plot here.” 

“I’m glad I’m not the only one,” Jongin says, and then he gestures for Junmyeon. “Wanna help me go through these documents?” 

“Uh, yeah, sure,” Junmyeon says, sufficiently distracted into a strange sense of security by their back and forth. He stands next to Jongin, opens up the third drawer. “They, uh, they go in here. Alphabetical.” 

“Oh, cool,” Jongin says, “I’ll have you know I’m an expert on the alphabet.” 

Junmyeon laughs, and Jongin smiles over at him as they begin to sort through the papers together, neatly filing them away in the drawer where they belong. They talk in silence, though the aimless chatter of the rest of the boys tends to make it feel less like a charity event and more like… just a normal Friday night. 

Before long, the desk is totally clear, and when he looks around, the rest of the living room is too. He draws breath, confused by the way tears form in his eyes. 

“You okay?” Jongin asks. 

Junmyeon turns back to him. Jongin smiles gently at him, pats him on the shoulder. 

“Yeah,” Junmyeon says, and he sniffs hard. “Yeah, I’m doing okay.” 

“I know everyone’s been, you know, saying their piece,” Jongin smiles. “So I’ll just keep mine short. We love you, okay?” 

“Okay,” Junmyeon says, and he frowns through a smile as Jongin stands, burying Junmyeon in a hug. “Thanks.” 

“I know it’s hard to reach out,” Jongin says. “And sometimes it’s harder to respond to someone reaching out. Which puts you in… you know, a pickle.” 

Junmyeon smiles. “Yeah.” 

“But I will eat all your pickles,” Jongin says, deadly serious. “I promise you.” 

“Okay,” Junmyeon says. “Thanks.” 

“I think Minseok had started helping Chanyeol with the laundry?” Kyungsoo offers. “If you were looking for something else to do.” 

“Yeah,” Junmyeon says, “that’s a good idea.” He looks around his perfectly kept apartment. He can’t believe he was so unaware of the way it would help his state of mind. He sees Jongin, Kyungsoo, and Yixing flopping onto his couch, and he smiles at them. “T-Thanks for this.” 

“Stop saying thanks,” Yixing says. “Remember when I broke my toe?” 

“God, don’t remind me,” Kyungsoo says before turning his gaze on Junmyeon. “Just accept this for what it is. What you’re owed.”  
  


↑

The rest of the night is spent doing his laundry and straightening up his bedroom, which, when split across nine people, doesn’t take very long at all. Mostly, they sit around talking shit and listening to music and drinking a little. He has fun, more fun than he can ever remember having, and still, in the back of his mind, he wonders what happens when they all leave. When he is left to his own devices again.

 _I’ll reach out,_ he promises himself, helping them gather their things at the end of the night. _They want to help, and I want to let them help._

Sehun stops them before they’re all set to walk out, clutching something in one of his reusable shopping bags. 

“Before we go… okay, so there was a tradition for old barn raisings,” Sehun says. “It’s called topping out.” 

“Oh God,” Baekhyun says. “If it has to do with ceremonial group head or a gang bang or something, I think I need to bow out early.” 

“Too much of a receiver?” Kyungsoo asks with a smile. 

“Bitch, I am so into giving, they should call me Lois Lowry,” Baekhyun says, and when no one laughs, “like… come on, holy shit. You guys are uncultured. _Lois Lowry? The Giver?_ ” 

“We got the joke,” Minseok says. “We just didn’t think it was funny.” 

“Oh, fuck you,” Baekhyun says. “I’m going to a group of friends where my sense of humor is appreciated.” 

“You’re staying right here,” Jongin says, and he slings his arm around Baekhyun’s neck with a handsome smile. “What’s topping out, buddy?” 

“The tradition of _topping out_ is when the master carpenter places, like, a wreath or a flag or something on the highest bough of the barn,” Sehun says proudly. 

“Well, we haven’t built anything, so we don’t have a master carpenter,” Chanyeol says. 

“We have a mastur _bator_ ,” Jongdae says, pointing at Chanyeol. 

“Oh, come on,” Chanyeol says. “I’ve been jerking off less.” 

“Tell that to your Internet Service Provider,” Jongdae snorts. “You use RedTube as a replacement for human intimacy even when you aren’t actively masturbating which is, in my opinion, more perverted than hardcore pornography.” 

“I told you that in _confidence!_ ” 

“Does _everything_ have to be a sex thing in this group?” Sehun whines. “Can we be sincere and chaste _once?_ ”

“Says the man who says _Nice_ anytime anyone says the number _sixty-nine_ ,” Yixing says, rolling his eyes. Sehun bites his lip. “Go on, you can say it. I know it must be killing you.” 

“Nice,” Sehun breathes out. 

“Just get on with the topping from the bottom or whatever it is,” Kyungsoo says. “I’m sure Junmyeon is wiped.” 

“I am a little tired,” Junmyeon shrugs. 

“Long day, buddy,” Jongin says, and he relinquishes his hold on Baekhyun so that he can instead pull Junmyeon into a hug. “Long day.” 

“My point is that I got you this fucking bamboo,” Sehun says, and he takes the plant from his bag, and he shoves the wide painted ceramic pot into Junmyeon’s arms. “It means strength, and like, whatever. I was gonna make a really cool, really _touching_ speech about how much you mean to us and how you continue to _grow_ and _inspire_ us, but _no…_ ” 

“Oh, don’t be like that,” Yixing says. “Do your speech.” 

“I basically just did,” Sehun says, frowning. “But, um…” 

“His point is that we think you’re the best,” Minseok says easily. “And that, for a long time, you were what was holding us all together.” 

“So if you need to be held together now,” Yixing says, “well, like, that’s what we’re here for.” 

“And you can call anytime you need anything,” Kyungsoo says. “Even if it’s just to talk.” 

“We’re always gonna be there for you,” Jongin says, and he hugs Junmyeon closer. “You can’t get rid of us now.” 

“Yeah, we’re like the plague!” Chanyeol says excitedly. 

“Or like really persistent allergies,” Jongin suggests, and Chanyeol smiles at him. 

“God, you two are so stupid,” Jongdae whispers, and they glare at him. “In a very cute way?”

“Just say your thing,” Minseok says. “Come on.” 

“I didn’t realize we were all getting a hand on this ball,” Jongdae says, but he draws a deep breath before speaking again. “We’re really happy to help. I hope you always remember that. No matter what happens, no matter what you’re going through, we’re gonna help. We’re gonna do what we can.” He looks at Baekhyun. “You?” 

“Me?” Baekhyun says and he turns to look into Junmyeon’s eyes. “You’re putting me on the spot, but… look at it this way. You’re the kind of person who inspires love like this. People setting aside time to come and care. Because you’re easy to care for. You’re easy to love. Would we do this for someone else? Probably not. We’re assholes.” The rest of them scoff. “We want you to be happy because you make _us_ happy. That’s just, like, that’s just basic math.” 

Junmyeon can barely see through the tears in his eyes, fighting like hell to keep them from spilling down his face. 

“Wow, that was… that was nice,” Minseok says. 

“Well, I do well under pressure,” Baekhyun shrugs happily. 

“Oh no,” Jongin says. “Junmyeon’s crying.” 

“I’m not crying,” Junmyeon cries. 

“Oh, boy,” Chanyeol says, and he grabs the bamboo from Junmyeon’s hands, setting it on the coffee table. “Let’s go boys. You know what time it is.” 

“Please tell me it’s not the gang bang,” Baekhyun says. “You’ll never take my AV card!” 

Before he can protest any further, the eight of them pull him into a tight hug, crushing him in their love. Junmyeon laughs through his tears, burying his face into one of their chests as he wraps his arms around as many of them as he can. 

“AV?” Sehun asks. 

“I don’t want to know,” Jongdae says, closing his eyes. “I don’t want to know, I don’t want to _know_.” 

“Let’s just enjoy the moment,” Jongin says peacefully. 

By then, Junmyeon doesn’t need to be told.  
  


↑

Junmyeon looks up bamboo care the following day, and from then on, he dedicates himself to keeping the little eight stalks living. It takes a great deal of effort, but he finds himself looking forward to watering them carefully. He learns that they’re thirsty, but at the same time, they’re very susceptible to overwatering, so he keeps an eye on it to make sure they’re getting the exact right amount, the right amount of sun too.

He calls them when he needs help. He’s not too ashamed anymore. They’ve seen him in the thick of it. They know what happens. And still, they love him. Still, they want to be there. 

They said always, they said no matter what. Even though it’s hard, he trusts them. 

It’s not solved, something like this never is. But it’s easier. 

It used to feel like drowning. 

The bamboo stalks are healthy and green, strong, ringed. Rungs of a ladder. He steps out of the pool of water, content that he knows how to swim.  
  


↑

**Author's Note:**

> wahhhh i hope you enjoyed this! i really enjoyed writing it ;~; thank you for reading! let's talk about Junmyeon or various other exos until forever ends. 
> 
> [my twitter](https://twitter.com/okamiwind) | [my curiouscat](https://curiouscat.me/okamiwind)


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